


baby look what you've done to me

by ballsdeepinjesus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Rimming, also flagrant disrespect to libraries, how could i forget - Freeform, i don't have much more 2 add than that tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinjesus/pseuds/ballsdeepinjesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The next day kind of turns everything upside down, though. Louis gets another lingerie catalogue addressed to Harry. He’s about to toss it when he sees a personalized note stuck to the front; it thanks Harry for his previous purchases and offers him a complimentary six-month subscription to their magazine free of charge. It’s a unisex lingerie catalogue. Lingerie specifically designed to allow for the existence of penises, apparently, judging from the bulging cocks covered in lace that he sees as he flips through the pages. His breath catches in his throat at the thought of a faceless Harry -- mysterious, odd Harry -- dressed up in his purchases, whatever they may be. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>He thinks he needs a lie down, to be honest. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[louis moves into harry's old flat. harry gets a lot of mail.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby look what you've done to me

**Author's Note:**

> fuck me
> 
> i've had writer's block for ages and tbh i still do, but i've been trying to put something out and well. here is...something. centered entirely around my desire to write harry in panties getting rimmed in public (many thanks to supernope for giving me something to work with here)
> 
> panties in question are found [here](http://images12.yandy.com/HiRez/EC_1353_Mocha_B_P2014.jpg)

Louis trudges the last of his boxes up the stairs during what should be his dinnertime; his stomach gives an empty growl at the thought of his cereal packed away in one of the dozens of cardboard moving boxes outside his door. Pizza tonight it is, he thinks. Knowing him, he won’t be done packing until he’s ready to move again.

His plan for moving in was very strategic -- pile all of his boxes into the building’s elevator instead of carrying them himself, keeping the doors open every time they threatened to close by shouldering them back. His plans were thwarted, however, when he got into the building and discovered the “Out of Order: Maintenance Expected Next Week” sign taped to the outside of the chrome doors. The twinges of discomfort in his back and the dull ache in his legs are about as promising as the mildly friendly but mostly wary smiles he receives from his new neighbors on the way up. Each had greeted him but went about their way, not even feigning an offer to help. 

He grunts as he leans against his door and pulls his keys from his pocket, hoping that his little flat winds up better than his day has gone so far. He’d been in a rush to leave his old flat after his prick of a roommate had stopped paying rent and expected Louis to pick up the slack; he’d helped him out for a month before the lease went up while the other man did nothing but lounge around the flat and eat Louis’ food. It was then that he decided to make his first move into adulthood and move into his own space, declining the offer to sign the lease for another year. 

It’s a bit exciting, if he’s honest, living fully on his own for the first time. He’d been in such a hurry to find a new place, however, that he’d agreed on renting his new flat without so much as a tour. His landlord Martha very kindly supplied him with pictures, informing him which pieces of furniture came with the flat and what he needed to bring. It was a bit of a risky move, one his mother scolded him harshly for, but Louis had to take the chance -- the flat was reasonably priced and in a nice neighborhood. What more could he ask for?

The pictures had been lovely as well, taken while the previous tenant still lived there. It looked homelike and comfortable, just what Louis wanted.

He swings the door open and steps inside, flicking the corridor light on as he kicks his shoes off to the side. The first thing he notices is the smell, a comforting mix of vanilla and cinnamon, one that Louis isn’t sure the origin of -- either a natural smell brought about by months of baking or an artificial smell brought about by months of burning pungent candles. Regardless, Louis likes it. 

The place is perfectly clean and Louis silently thanks the previous owner for not leaving it in awful condition. In fact, the floors appear freshly waxed and the carpets recently vacuumed. (He makes a mental note to buy himself a vacuum cleaner.)

He spends awhile just walking around the flat, giving himself the tour he should have probably taken before he signed the lease. He checks every nook and cranny for evidence of the previous tenant, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile when he finds random odds and ends. There’s a small bottle of honeysuckle shower gel tucked in the cabinet underneath the sink that Louis sniffs appreciatively and places in the nook of his shower. The bed is stripped of course, but the worse-for-wear nightstand at the side houses a few pastel-colored pressed flowers. In one of the kitchen drawers he finds a lone bandaid adorned with pictures of smiling kittens. He chuckles to himself, wondering just who in the hell lived here before him. 

He tucks the bandaid away, deciding it’s a good beginning for his bits and bobs drawer, and walks back towards the door to the flat to start moving his boxes in.

 

 

It’s in the middle of unpacking three days later that his mum calls. Louis groans and rolls around in his spot on the floor, trying to stumble into sitting position. He gives up and lies back down amongst the clutter of pizza boxes and trash and answers the call.

“Hi Mum,” he says. 

“Darling! You haven’t called me in ages, I was so worried,” she answers.

Louis rolls onto his stomach and breathes a hot puff of air into his phone. “Sorry, sorry. Just busy with the move is all.” Busy, yes. He eyes the boxes strewn haphazardly across the lounge. Very...busy.

“How’s it going?” she asks. “Do you need any help unpacking? Decorating? Do you need me to bring some meals up for you?”

He smiles to himself at his mother’s babbling, drumming his nails on the floor as she lists possible things Louis might need. “I’m fine, Mum. Promise. Made some progress.” _Lies._ “I’m eating actual food.” _Bit of a lie._ “Almost done everything. I’ll have you and the kids up in a few weeks to see the finished product.” Nothing like a bit of pressure to get him motivated, he thinks. 

“Oh! That would be wonderful, love. I can’t wait to see the place. Have you checked the post recently, by chance?” 

Louis frowns and wrinkles his nose at the question, unsure of where he should even check for his mail now. “Haven’t set that up yet, to be honest. I think there might be a mailroom on the first floor. Guess I should get the key for that.”

“Please do,” she responds. “The kids and I sent something special for you.” 

Louis grins and finally picks himself off of the floor, ambling to his feet with a low groan. “I’ll get right on that, Mum. Love you.”

“Lots of love, dear. And get unpacking, I don’t believe you’ve been working on it one bit.” She ends the call with a giggle, leaving Louis to gape at his phone in disbelief. He supposes he is a bit predictable. 

With a burst of energy, Louis grabs a trash bag from the kitchen and throws all of the pizza boxes away. He tackles his unpacked boxes next, shoveling his comics onto the wooden bookshelf built into the wall and putting pictures of his family and random decorations on top of the small fireplace mantle. 

Within an hour almost the entire lounge is unpacked, cardboard boxes folded down and lying flat on the floor next to the bag of trash. He picks the boxes up in one arm and the trash with another, stumbling down the hallway with the added weight as he leaves his flat. He notices with more than a little irritation that the building’s elevator is now fixed; it’s just his luck, really. He heads down the basement with his disposables, intending to get his mail key on the way down as well.

Getting the key is easy enough, but he’s a bit nonplussed when he opens his box and sees it’s stuffed, filled to the brim with envelopes and postcards. Most are from his extended family wishing him well in his new home. He opens the one from his mum with a smile, unfolding it right then and there and letting out a loud squawk when glitter rains from the card and onto the floor. “The twins,” he groans, toeing at the mess on the floor. The inside of the card is decorated with little messages from the girls and crayon scribbles at the bottom from Doris and Ernest. The other side of the card reads:

_“Happy Housewarming, Love!_  
Please unpack. Neatly.  
Love, Mummy 

_P.S. Use this gift card wisely.”_

Said giftcard to IKEA is taped to the bottom, next to a bunch of X’s and O’s. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick thank you text to his mum and then tucks the card back into its envelope. The rest of the mail is mostly acknowledgement of his change of address notifications from different places and a nice note from his landlord welcoming him to the building. The bottom of the stack, however, makes him pause. There are a bunch of letters addressed to “Harry Styles.” Louis glances around at the other boxes, searching for any with his name on it but none are to be found. He shrugs, hoping they’re nothing of major importance to this Harry Styles, and tucks them under his arm, making his way back to his place.

 

 

Louis leaves his flat the next morning, sleepy and ruffled and not at all prepared for his first day at his new job. A local primary school had suffered from an abrupt and untimely resignation from their tenured drama and music teacher and called him over Christmas break asking Louis to take the job permanently. He’d been eager to accept and swap out the reasonably well-paid position for his two part-time jobs that were running him ragged. Working with children has always been his dream, having grown up surrounded by little lively monsters. He’s always wanted an entire brood of his own, one large enough to fill an entire minivan. That’s his next life goal he hopes -- starting a family.

He’s adjusting his jacket over his button-down and picking up his briefcase -- Christ, he can hardly believe himself -- when he meets one of his next door neighbors for the first time. 

“Hi there,” he says, voice still scratchy with sleep. “I’m Louis. Just moved in next door.”

The older man regards him warily before breaking out in a smile and offering him his hand to shake. “I’m Gerard,” he replies. “Been living here for fifteen years.”

Louis whistles lowly and looks around the corridor. “Seems quite homey, I can see why you stayed.”

“Boy who lived here before you said that, too. I’m gonna miss his muffins,” Gerard sighs. “Best I’ve ever tasted besides my late wife’s, god rest her soul.”

“Muffins?” 

Gerard nods, pocketing his keys and walking with Louis towards the elevator. “Bit of a baker, Harry was. Always shared what he made with the floor too. Such a nice lad, shame he moved out.” Seeing Louis’ confused frown, he hurries to add, “Not that we’re not pleased to have you, of course.”

“Oh no, no,” Louis replies, walking into the elevator with the other man. “You said his name was Harry? Think I’m getting some of his mail.”

“Ah, he must have forgotten to set up his forwarding address,” Gerard answers. “I’m sure he’ll get around to it eventually. Bit of a forgetful boy, that one.”

“Right,” Louis answers. “Well I hope he does. My box was nearly full last night and I wouldn’t want him to miss out on any exciting bills coming his way.” He laughs as they exit the elevator, making a mental note to check the post again when he gets off work.

 

It’s a quiet few days of Louis settling into his new job before he receives more mail; this time, an expensive-looking lingerie catalogue is rolled up in his box. He scoffs as he sees Harry’s name in the corner as he unrolls the glossy print that reminds him of the magazines he’d find hidden around his stepfather’s office growing up. Straight men are so odd, he thinks, always getting off to the strangest things. The internet is everyone’s oyster, yet men wank off to what’s in between the shiny pages of the catalogue he holds. He sighs as he tosses the catalogue into the bin and trudges back upstairs. He guesses he can’t judge, seeing as how his Beckham poster was his main source of personal entertainment as a young teen. But it was Becks, so he thinks his hormones were justified on that one.

The next day kind of turns everything upside down, though. Louis gets another lingerie catalogue addressed to Harry. He’s about to toss it when he sees a personalized note stuck to the front; it thanks Harry for his previous purchases and offers him a complimentary six-month subscription to their magazine free of charge. It’s a unisex lingerie catalogue. Lingerie specifically designed to allow for the existence of penises, apparently, judging from the bulging cocks covered in lace that he sees as he flips through the pages. His breath catches in his throat at the thought of a faceless Harry -- mysterious, odd Harry -- dressed up in his purchases, whatever they may be. 

He thinks he needs a lie down, to be honest. 

 

Louis tries to ignore the knowledge that the person living in the flat before him was a bit kinkier than he expected. He tries to ignore thinking about him at all, in fact, and throws away any mail he receives without hardly a glance at it. He feels a twinge of guilt, because _surely_ Harry needs some of the important-looking white envelopes piling up in his box, but it’s his own fault really. It’s been nearly a month and no forwarding address has been set up, nor has Harry apparently bothered to notify anyone of his change of address. 

He keeps to that mantra quite well until the day comes when he receives a wedding magazine and a Babies R’ Us semi-annual catalogue. His heart just melts a bit, really, at the image he holds in his head of this confusing yet endearing boy. He threw away a bloody Cat Fancy magazine the week before, for shit’s sake. 

It’s odd, he knows, but he really wants to meet him. If for no other reason than to figure out who in the hell Harry Styles is. And maybe to give him back some of the mail he hasn’t thrown away. 

So he pops over to his landlord’s office and knocks on her door, hoping she’s in for the day. 

“Come in!” she calls from the other side.

She’s sitting at her desk when he comes in, typing away rapidly on her keyboard with one hand and taking notes on a legal pad with her other. She gives him a happy smile when she sees him and nods toward the folding chair beside her desk.

“Hello, ma’am,” Louis says, wincing at the loud creak the chair gives when he sits down.

“Call me Martha, love,” she protests, dropping her pen on the pad of paper and pushing away from her desk. She clasps her hands in her lap and beams at him. “Not that old yet, anyway. How’s the move been?”

“Great, thanks,” he answers. “Finally unpacked for the most part. Really love the place.”

“Oh, I’m so pleased,” Martha says. “Previous owner was an absolute joy, so I’m glad we’ve got a good replacement at least.”

“I wanted to ask about him actually. Harry, I mean.”

Martha tilts her head to the side and frowns. “You know him?”

“No, no,” Louis quickly adds. “I just keep receiving his mail in my box. It’s no bother, really, but it fills up rather quickly and I’d like to contact him if I could.”

Martha clucks her tongue and opens a file drawer at her side, shaking her head. “Knew he forgot to do something, the little stinker. He was in such a hurry to move after he got his dream house, he said. He was out in no time. Said he was starting a family,” she whispers conspiratorially, with a fond twinkle in her eye. “Such a sweet boy.”

Louis’ tummy does a flip at that bit of news. He’s not sure why learning that Harry is presumably in a very stable relationship with babies on the way makes his heart ache just a little -- he certainly had no ties to him besides the very weird dreams he’s been having involving a faceless boy wearing knickers. But he feels a little jealous too; he’s always wanted to be married with kids and this fascinating boy is doing all of that with his life while Louis is...doing nothing. 

He plasters on a grin as Martha hands him a slip of paper with Harry’s contact information on it, apologizing profusely for any trouble he’s had with his post. 

Once he’s back in his flat, he pulls out his phone and types Harry’s number into his contacts, sending off a quick text afterwards that reads, **hey mate i live in your old flat and i’ve got a little stack of your mail ? dunno if you want it or not, but i thought i’d let you know !**

He only has to wait about fifteen minutes until he gets a reply. He pulls the pot of mac and cheese off the burner and dusts his hands off before reaching for his phone. 

_Quick question before I give any details away: What scent of shower gel did I leave in the bathroom cabinet by accident?_

**haha honeysuckle ? smelled nice btw !**

_Wasn’t actually sure I left any, but well done. I’m sooo sorry. Completely slipped my mind to set up a forwarding address. Was wondering where all of my mail had went :(_

**no problem, was fun seeing your many varied interests…….**

_Fuck._

**hahahahahaahahahahaha**

Louis presses his knuckles into his mouth, trying to suppress a grin. Harry sends a blushing emoji back before asking if he can stop by during the week and pick his mail up. Louis panics for a moment, hoping Harry won’t be upset that he threw out most of his mail, but agrees anyway. 

 

 

The day Harry is supposed to come over, Louis makes it his mission to clean every inch of the flat and finally finish any stray bits of unpacking he’s yet to do. He doesn’t want Harry to think that he’s turned his former home into a pig sty. He even goes so far as to pick a few candles up at the store, lighting them throughout the house to mimic the scent that lingered there when he moved in. It winds up smelling a bit like he’s trapped in a bakery filled with expired goods, so he opens a window and lets the fresh air drag some of it out. 

He stands in front of his bathroom mirror and cements a few artfully places pieces of his fringe in place with hairspray, hoping he appears casually dishevelled yet sexy. For Harry. Who he doesn’t know. At all.

His shoulders slump and he musses up his hair entirely, brushing it off to the side and stepping away from the mirror to take a deep breath. He needs to get a grip. It’s just a boy -- a taken boy who may look like an ogre for all he knows. He’ll pick up his mail and stop at Martha’s on the way down to give her his new address and never be seen in this building again. 

The kettle goes off in his kitchen right as a tentative knock raps at the door. Louis scurries over to the stove to take the kettle off and then runs back to the corridor, straightening his shirt and flicking at his hair -- _again_ \-- before he opens the door. 

“Bit weird being on this side of the door and doing the knocking,” says Harry. Louis isn’t sure what he expected him to look like, but it certainly wasn’t _this._ Harry’s fucking beautiful, really; he has long, loosely-curled, chocolate brown hair that dusts his shoulders, topped off with a wide-brimmed black hat that should look ridiculous but doesn’t. He’s pale but not sickly pale, a soft ivory that serves as a lovely backdrop for his huge, sparkling green eyes and his pouty raspberry red mouth. He’s just a shade taller than Louis, tottering on two long legs clad in skintight denim. He’s wearing a loose-fitting floral top over a white shirt, and. Well Louis is staring, isn’t he.

“I’m,” he croaks. He clears his throat and tries to shake the fog from his head, offering a sweaty palm for Harry to shake. “Sorry. I’m Louis.”

“Harry,” the other boy smiles. “But you already knew that.” He ducks his head shyly and places his hands behind his back, wringing his hands together while he shuffles from foot to foot.

“Think I know a lot about you now, honestly,” Louis jokes. Harry looks up and blushes, shrugging his shoulders. They stand there in silence until Louis jumps and swings the door open, gesturing Harry inside. “Come in, come in.”

“Like what you’ve done with the place,” Harry offers as they walk down the corridor to the kitchen. He gestures at the wooden frames lining the walls. “Lots of pictures.”

“Lots of family,” Louis grins. “I was just trying to make it as domestic as I think you might have had it.”

“What makes you think my flat was domestic? Might’ve had me a proper bachelor pad.” Harry looks coy, like he knows the suggestion is as ridiculous as it sounds.

“Smelled like my mum’s kitchen on Christmas morning when I walked in here the first time,” Louis answers. “Unless you were baking cookies while you pumped iron in the lounge?”

Harry giggles and shakes his head. “You caught me.”

Louis just smiles, turning to the kitchen cabinet and pulling out two mugs. “Tea okay with you?” Harry nods as he looks around the room, peeking his head around the doorway to glance into the lounge. He nods appreciatively at the clean space; Louis thanks himself for having the foresight to straighten up a bit.

While Harry’s looking -- spying, really, but he won’t call him out on it -- he opens up the drawer to his side and pulls out a small stack of Harry’s mail. Harry turns around as Louis places it on the countertop and raises his eyebrows. 

“Awfully small stack,” he comments.

“I may...have thrown some things away,” Louis hedges. “Hopefully nothing too important.”

Harry shrugs and smiles anyway. “Pay all of my bills online anyway, so. And it’s my fault, really. I was going to set up a forwarding address my last day but I got so caught up in the move that I just wound up leaving.” 

“Understandable,” Louis replies. He nudges the stack towards him until Harry picks it up. “Don’t think there’s anything too important in there besides your lingerie.” He turns and puts two tea bags into the mugs with faux-casualness as Harry coughs behind him and jostles the mail in his hands. He pours water into each mug and turns to offer Harry his. Harry is blushing and awkward, looking pointedly at his feet as he reaches for the mug. Louis has to take pity on him.

“I’m only joking! I have no opinion at all on your interests, whatever they may be.” Not entirely true, he thinks. Because now that the lingerie has been brought up, he can’t stop picturing it on the boy in front of him. His breathing constricts a bit at the thought of Harry in lace; he takes a sip of the watery tea to disguise it. 

“Thanks,” Harry answers shyly. “It’s, um, a new thing I guess. Something I’m exploring. I really shouldn’t be telling you this, why do I overshare?” He rolls his eyes and taps himself on the arm in reprimand. 

The thing is, Louis wants him to continue. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he is incredibly interested in the backstory there. But prying him for information about this would be uncomfortable on multiple levels, he decides. He looks at the wedding magazine in Harry’s right arm and feels his eyes widen. Fuck. He’s standing here, half-flirting with this boy when he’s taken.

“Congrats by the way,” he says. He wavers before adding, “Helped plan my mum’s wedding a bit. Well, as much as she’d let me. It was really fun.”

Harry tilts his head to the side in what seems to be confusion. “What?”

Louis points to the wedding magazine in his hand, held right in front of the Babies R’ Us catalogue. “Martha said you left this place to start a family.”

Looking down at the magazine in his arm, Harry groans and tosses them back onto the counter. He takes a nervous sip of his tea before mumbling, “Not quite.”

He doesn’t mean to be desperate, but he latches onto that opening quite quickly. “What do you mean?” he questions.

“Well, like,” Harry starts. “I don’t really even have a boyfriend yet? I’ve just saved up some money and the house was available and I -- I’m really ready, you know? Always wanted to be married and definitely always wanted kids. Just wanted to expedite the process a little bit.” He flushes red and puts his mug on the counter as well, crossing his arms over his torso and hugging himself self-consciously. “I do have a cat named Gandalf if that counts.”

Fuck if that wasn’t one of the most endearing things he’s heard in his life. Harry is single and ridiculously ready to mingle it seems. Louis never thought he’d be lucky enough to meet a boy even more obsessed with marriage and babies as he is. It’s a miracle, honestly. 

Instead of dropping to his knees and proposing right then and there, Louis blurts, “You named your cat Gandalf?”

Harry gives Louis a look of offense at the line of questioning. “Of course I did. I adopted him from the shelter and he’s a bit old and gray but so spirited, Louis. He’s wonderful. _He’s Gandalf.”_

Louis muffles his smile into his cup before answering, “No offense intended. Would’ve gone with Aragorn meself, though.”

“Well, when I considered the things I used to do while looking at my Aragorn poster when I was younger,” Harry pauses with a frown, “Gandalf was a bit safer.”

Cackling loudly, Louis nods and smirks. “Wise choice then.”

Harry beams at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief until he glances behind Louis towards the stove. “Shit, it’s five o’clock already? Not to leave in a hurry, but I was supposed to be starting on dinner five minutes ago.” He checks his phone and taps out a text before locking it and grimacing. “Family housewarming party,” he explains. 

“Ooh,” Louis winces. “Have one of them coming up as well. Good luck, mate.”

Harry thanks him again for the tea and the mail and leaves in a rush. Louis feels unexpectedly glum at the knowledge that he’s probably never going to see Harry again. He pouts and empties their mugs into the sink, not bothering to wash them and fully prepared to sulk the rest of his night away.

 

 

The next week is a blur of absolute boredom. Louis works, Louis sleeps. Louis eats, Louis works. He’s made some new friends at work and met up with some of his best mates, but he can’t shake the feeling of melancholy following him around from day to day. It’s ridiculous to think it’s from missing Harry because really, he’d only met the boy for half an hour a week ago, and yet -- and yet he finds himself sagging with disappointment when he checks his postbox and nothing’s there. 

Perhaps that’s why he’s so excited to see a small brown package in his box days later, the shipping label addressed to Harry. He’s so happy that he momentarily loses his mind and opens the bloody package right then and there, ignoring the fact that it’s very obviously _not his._

He wishes he could take it back when he rips the box open and a bubble-wrapped object drops to the ground. It’s pink and long and -- fucking hell. It’s a dildo. Louis looks at the box in horror, noticing the words “Lovehoney” in small black print on the shipping label. He scrambles to the floor and scoops the dildo up into the box, looking behind his shoulders nervously to make sure no one saw. The room is thankfully completely empty, so Louis takes the opportunity to let out a muffled, overwhelmed shout. He pulls out his phone to rattle off a quick text to Harry.

**got a box addressed to you ?????????????**

The thing is, this doesn’t make sense at all. The mail had stopped coming a week ago as soon as Harry had set up his forwarding address. There’s no reason it would just start up again randomly, and with packages nonetheless. His phone buzzes in his hand, Harry’s response lighting up the screen.

_Ooooooooops was it the vibrator? :/_

Vibrator. Wonderful. Even better -- now he’s assaulted with not altogether unwelcome images of Harry writhing around on his bed with a pink dildo up his arse, the sound of vibrations buzzing in the background. Just what he needed.

**yes ? i thought you’d set up the forwarding address**

_Thought I had! Forgot to change my saved shipping info on Lovehoney :(_

_Can I stop by for that package though at some point though...was kind of looking forward to it_

And that’s how it begins, really. He’s been pushed into a new era of receiving Harry’s mail, one that exclusively revolves around boxes of sex toys -- and on one memorable occasion, a pair of strappy lace knickers with the spot for Harry’s cock cut out. Harry becomes less and less apologetic with each package, not even attempting to come up with a viable excuse for why his sex toys keep ending up in Louis’ post. 

Eventually, Louis confronts him after receiving Harry’s new jeweled anal plug. 

**you’ve had no problem at all with me opening your packages for the past two weeks…**

_I don’t mind :)_

**but why**

All he gets in response is a winking emoji and that’s -- well that’s that, really. Harry is purposely driving Louis to the edge of a sexually-frustrated breakdown and he’s not even bothered. 

What’s worse is that every time Harry stops by to pick up his packages, he’s always pleased as punch, smiling coyly as Louis shoves the opened boxes into his hands with a grunt. The few times Louis is able to collect himself and invite Harry in for tea, the other boy politely declines, informing Louis he has to get home and try out his wares. _He’s under attack._

His breaking point happens a few days later after he returns home from a long day at the school and finds another package in his mailbox. He plucks it from his space with a groan, resigned to another round of wank fantasies generated by whatever Harry’s ordered.

Louis puts the box on the counter and loosens his tie, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and breathing in deep. He takes a knife from one of his side drawers and carefully cuts through the tape, opening the flaps of the small package and peeking inside. 

There are two items laying on the bottom -- two clamps connected by a chain that he quickly realizes are bloody nipple clamps and a pair of basic black stockings. He plucks them from the box and reads over the label, nearly choking on his own spit when he realizes the stockings are anything but basic -- the seams on the back of them read “ _whip me...bite me...eat me...tease me_ ” in loopy, cursive font.

In less than five minutes he’s leaving the building after having texted Harry for his location -- a library of all places -- and receiving a cheeky text back telling Louis that he’s located on the lowest level of the library (a place no one ever visits). He can’t keep living life like this, with his penis at the mercy of whatever fantasies Harry inspires for the day. He has to put his foot down at some point.

Louis makes it to the library in record time, giving the librarians at the front desk a strained smile as he speedwalks by them and heads for the stairs. He skips steps on his way down, miraculously avoiding a broken neck, and bangs through the doors of the basement level.

on your floor, he texts. whistle so i know where to go.

Seconds later, a low whistle trills from the right side of the room. He hurries through the stacks to the desks lining the wall and finds a pleased Harry sitting on a wooden chair, legs crossed as he pretends to read the novel in his hand. He comes closer and sees the cover of the book features a naked man whose body is tied with rope, a looming shadow of another man hovering near him. Louis hisses out a sharp breath, wondering how he managed to get involved with such a bloody _minx._

Louis drops the small box onto the desk before Harry with a thud, moving his hands to his hips immediately in frustration. “An explanation, please.”

Harry clears his throat and uncrosses his legs delicately, marking his page in the book with a bobby pin he pulls out of his bun. He peaks inside the box, face brightening immediately as he pulls out the stockings. 

“Very exciting,” he cheers. “I’ve been waiting on these for weeks. They’ve been out of stock for ages.”

“And you sent them to me,” Louis replies. “Logical.”

“Of course I did,” Harry grins, dimple popping as he looks up at Louis. “Ideally I’ll be wearing them for you, won’t I?”

Louis blusters for a moment, watching Harry incredulously as he goes back to eyeing the inside of the box. He pulls out the nipple clamps with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows as he holds them up to his chest.

“Oh, these will be fun.”

“Harry,” he whines.

“Louis,” the other boy mimics, shaking the nipple clamps in his hand. 

“You want to wear these for me?” Louis asks. “Just so we’re clear.”

Harry rolls his eyes and stands, tossing the clamps back into the box and giving Louis an unsubtle once-over. “Obviously. Or at least I thought it was obvious. Who in their right mind keeps sending packages like this to their old address?”

“You’re the worst,” Louis mumbles, striding forward and pulling Harry’s mouth to his. He can feel the other boy giggling against his mouth while his hands pull Louis closer. A hot flick of Louis’ tongue at the seam of his lips cuts off his giggles rather quickly; he opens his mouth and moans as Louis bites sharply on his pillowy lower lip. Harry’s kisses are so different from any Louis has ever had in his life. He can’t lie and say he’s never had a good kiss, but this is on a wholly different level. Harry is unusually responsive, hands kneading into Louis’ lower back as he lets out tiny muffled whimpers. Louis sneaks his eyes open at one point and sees Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together like he’s focusing all of his energy on Louis’ lips. 

The slick sounds of their mouths are deafening in the quiet of the library floor. Louis feels a twitch in his pants at the thought of anyone coming downstairs and hearing their heavy breaths, knowing exactly what they were doing. 

He pulls away to suck at Harry’s neck, licking his way down his long throat to suckle at the junction between his ear and his jawline. Harry emits a high-pitched whine that travels loudly through the room. Louis peels himself away from his neck quickly and covers Harry’s mouth with his palm, not missing the way Harry’s pupils dilate at the insistent press of his hand. 

“Do you want people to hear you, Harry?” he asks. He’s only mildly surprised when Harry shakes his head in affirmation, fluttering his eyes closed as he leans against the shelves behind him, dragging Louis along as well. 

“You dirty, dirty bird,” Louis whispers. He slides his palm away, breath hitching as Harry chases after it with his mouth, suckling his thumb between his lips. He swipes his tongue over his finger and releases it with a pop, looking at Louis through his lashes heatedly.

“More kisses,” he demands. “Kiss me. Kiss.”

The desperation in his voice is beautiful to hear. “All right, all right,” Louis answers. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere else, love? There’s a lot of things I want to do with you.”

“You can do all of them right here,” Harry challenges. “No one ever comes down to this floor.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis says, surging forward to capture Harry’s lips in his. Harry chases his tongue this time, pushing back against Louis’ and then tauntingly withdrawing, making Louis chase him back into his mouth. “You little tart,” he breathes against his lips.

“I do taste quite sweet,” Harry murmurs. _I’ll be the judge of that,_ Louis thinks. 

Louis teases him this time, licking at his lips with darting flicks of his tongue and then moving to the side, pecking the corners of his lips, his nose, his cheekbones. Harry starts whining with frustration when Louis kisses his chin and pouts, plumping out his shiny lower lip with a pleading look. Louis moves his hands to Harry’s hips, running his fingers teasingly under the hem of his shirt to play with the pliant flesh resting above his waistband. For all of Harry’s lithe appearance, his body is unexpectedly soft, eager to yield to Louis’ touch. He gives up his teasing and kisses him, slow and deep, as he runs his hands north over Harry’s chest. He drags his blunt nails over Harry’s nipples, pinching them in between his fingers lightly while Harry shudders against him and pulls away with a gasp. 

“Again,” he pleads, reaching for Louis’ hand and pressing them harder against his chest. Louis shoves Harry’s shirt up to his armpits, watching with glee as his rose-colored nipples pebble at the unexpected burst of cold air. He squeezes them with more intent this time, watching Harry’s face scrunch up in pleasure while his nipples become swollen and puffy and turn an even darker shade of pink. He can’t resist ducking down and sucking one of them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nub and nibbling lightly with his teeth. Harry sobs loudly and turns his head to the side while Louis watches him and sucks. 

For a moment, Louis forgets they’re even in public, in free view of anyone who comes down to browse whatever musty old books are stored there. He finds himself not caring a bit, however, determined to see this through to the end. If that end results in them being banned for life from the public library, then so be it. Sacrifices must be made when it comes to fucking Harry Styles.

While his mouth is occupied with Harry’s chest and the other boy is busy whimpering and moaning, Louis drags his hands down his body to grip his arse. He kneads at his cheeks and squeezes them in his palms until Harry squeaks and hitches one of his legs up over Louis’ hips. Louis slides his hands down Harry’s tight jeans and under his pants as Harry grinds against his thigh. 

“Do you -- do you want me to blow you?” Louis asks. Obviously they can’t fuck in the library, unless Harry miraculously carries multiple sachets of lube in his pockets, so he thinks they’re rather limited to what they can get away with. Harry must not think so, because he shakes his head from side to side, still grinding against his leg. “What do you want, darling?”

Harry mumbles something under his breath that Louis doesn’t catch. He looks uncharacteristically shy, his face pink and his eyelashes fanning out in shadows on his cheeks.

“Speak up, baby,” Louis murmurs into his skin. 

“Eat me out,” Harry blurts. “Please.”

“Okay,” Louis squeaks. He clears his throat. “I mean. Yes. That’s fine.”

Harry grins through his apparent sex-haze and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck to draw him closer. “Fine,” he giggles. “Eating me out will be _fine._ ”

“Very fine,” Louis repeats, ducking down to nip at the twitching tendons in Harry’s neck. He digs his fingers into his cheeks and pulls them apart slightly as he whispers into his skin, “More than fine.”

Cursing, Harry pushes Louis away a few inches to wrestle with the fly of his jeans, pushing the tight material down his thighs and letting them pool at his feet. 

“What,” he falters, staring at the lacy knickers Harry’s just revealed. He steps closer and pushes Harry’s shirt back up, letting the other boy pull it off his head and drop it to the floor by his feet. He gently traces his fingers over the waistband of his panties and flicks his eyes up to a bashful-looking Harry who’s biting his lip while he looks down at Louis’ hand. 

Louis pulls him into the stacks, pushing Harry gently up against the rows of books. Little ringlets of hair are escaping Harry’s bun and curling around his face, slightly damp with sweat. Louis brushes them back from his face and rubs a thumb over his cheekbone, watching as Harry presses his cheek into his palm with a contented sigh. 

“You one hundred percent want to do this? In a library?” he asks just to make sure. 

Harry snaps his eyes open and grins, spinning in place against the stack and pushing his arse out. He looks at Louis over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye as he answers, “Your move.”

When he looks down at his arse, Louis curses quietly -- of course Harry would be wearing panties _with the entire arse cut out for easy access._ There’s a pretty bow placed at the dip of his back holding all of the straps together; Louis plucks it gently and watches as the straps press indentations into his flesh. He drops to his knees carefully and places his hands on the backs of Harry’s thick thighs, massaging his taut muscles until they relax. 

“Love your thighs.” He nibbles at the back of Harry’s left knee and works his way up, biting into the meatiest part of Harry’s thigh, right under the curve of his cheek. He sucks a lovebite into his skin, keeping Harry held tight in his hands as he squirms and mumbles curses above him. He pulls away after a moment to admire his work, pressing his thumb into the shiny red mark blooming on his thigh. Harry hisses and pushes himself further against Louis, shoving books to the side on the shelf so he can keep himself propped up on his elbows. 

Louis curves his hands over Harry’s perky arse, scratching at the ribbons of material with his nails and dragging the material with him. He spreads Harry’s legs apart and tickles the inside of his upper thighs before spreading his cheeks apart. He groans at the sight of Harry’s entrance, wondering just how in the hell even Harry’s _arsehole_ manages to be gorgeous, and surges forward to press a smacking kiss against his hole. The sound reverberates through the room, making him pause with his mouth inches away from Harry’s arse. 

Harry turns to look down at Louis, his brows furrowed as they both weigh their options. It’s just so bloody loud and if anyone comes down here they’re screwed. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the risks, wiggling his arse against Harry’s face and shrugging his shoulders. “Once in a lifetime opportunity to eat me out in public, Lou.”

He’s never really been into the idea of public sex, really. Generally speaking he prefers to get all of his dicking out in the privacy of a nice, comfortable bedroom. But the fact that Harry’s clearly getting off on this, turned on by the risk factor to the point that he’s nearly grinding on Louis’ face…that’s enough for Louis. His dick twitches in his jeans as shrugs too, giving Harry a wicked smile before diving back in.

He noses around the backs of Harry’s thighs while he sneaks fleeting kisses to his entrance, fluttering his tongue in feather light strokes designed to tease rather than please. Harry whimpers into his arms, spreading his legs even wider to encourage Louis. Louis isn’t having any of it though, continuing to lazily lick around Harry’s hole. He nuzzles his way down to Harry’s balls and licks at them too, cupping them in his hand and rolling them gently. 

“Louis,” Harry whines. “More.”

“Greedy, greedy, greedy,” Louis murmurs against his skin. He licks his way back up to Harry’s entrance in one long stroke, forming his tongue into a point and prodding it into his hole. He presses in as far as he can, burying his face in between Harry’s cheeks while he grinds back and mewls. Louis knows the patchy stubble on his face must sting against Harry’s sensitive upper thighs, but he almost seems to get off on it, squeezing his legs closer to Louis’ face. 

Louis pulls back and hovers over his wet entrance, brushing his thumb over his rim and placing light pressure on it, just enough of a suggestion to make Harry whine. He doesn’t have any lube on him and doesn’t particularly enjoy the idea of using spit under any circumstance, so he just massages his thumb gingerly, savoring the way Harry moves into the touch. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, flicking his tongue around his thumb. Harry turns and watches Louis through hooded eyes, licking his lips as Louis mouths at his arse. “Gorgeous.”

He takes his thumb away and wraps his hands around Harry’s hips instead, pulling him close as he buries his face in between his cheeks, licking everywhere except his hole. Once Harry’s nice and wet, Louis sits there with his tongue out and starts moving Harry’s hips for him until he catches the hint. 

Harry whines quietly and starts slowly circling his hips backwards, rocking himself all over Louis’ tongue until his face is damp with his own spit. While Harry takes the lead, Louis reaches around for his cock, positively gleeful when he feels the sticky lace material barely holding him in. He cups Harry’s cock, stroking it lightly from base to tip where it starts to poke out of the waistband. 

Louis pulls away for a moment to ask, “You want to come?” He strokes Harry’s cock faster in his palm as he nods and starts _grinding_ his arse into Louis’ face. He’s almost unbearably loud, the sounds of his mewls and whimpers ricocheting off of the walls. All it takes is a few more seconds and Louis pointing his tongue for Harry to freeze and wail into his arms, his dick pulsing out come into his panties. Louis strokes him through the aftershocks, rising from his tender knees and kissing his way up Harry’s back. 

He holds him close, wrapping his arms tight around Harry’s chest from behind while Harry catches his breath. He tries to ignore his own aching cock and does a good job of it too until Harry starts grinding backwards _again._ He turns his head against Louis’ shoulder and opens his mouth for a sloppy kiss as he centers himself on Louis’ cock.

“Want you --,” he breathes, “Want you to come too.”

“All right, darling, all right,” Louis croaks out. “So generous.” Harry snorts and reaches behind to try and shove Louis’ jeans off, but Louis just brushes his hands away and unzips them himself, letting them and his pants pool at his knees. Just as he steps forward, the sound of a door opening on the opposite end of the room stops him in his tracks. Harry and Louis keep perfectly still as they listen to footsteps and laughter ring out distantly. 

Harry bites his lip and looks to Louis for answers. If either of them were smart, they’d pack up right now and leave, finishing things off comfortably in one of their beds. But Louis’ cock is still hard, the tip of it dripping bits of precome onto Harry’s back, and -- well. He wants to keep going. Harry seems to want that too, because he drops his gaze towards Louis’ crotch and smirks, propping himself up on his elbows on the shelf once more. 

Louis curses and hesitantly rocks forward, brushing his length in between Harry’s cheeks. The sensation of the head of his cock catching against the strings of the other boy’s panties is indescribable. He pulls Harry tighter against him and gives him slow, powerful thrusts, pushing his arse cheeks together to give himself more pressure. 

The voices have stayed distant, thankfully, but there’s a nagging insistence in the back of Louis’ brain telling him they’re about to get caught with their pants around their ankles -- literally. That urges him to go faster, trying to control his breathing while his cock throbs against Harry’s bum. 

On one upward stroke, the tip of his dick brushes past Harry’s hole, dragging one of the lace ribbons with it. Harry lets out a strangled, aborted cry, his eyes snapping wide open immediately as he gives Louis a panicked look. Louis tugs him forward, pulling him against his chest as he wraps his palm carefully over his mouth. Harry breathes heavily but doesn’t protest, his heart beating fast from where Louis’ other hand rests on his body.

They wait silently for any sounds of acknowledgment from the other people in the library, but the voices continue talking in low murmurs, oblivious to what’s happening on the other side. 

Louis snaps his hips forward abruptly, swallowing Harry’s gasp of surprise with his hand. 

“They could walk by here at any minute and see you like this, you know,” he whispers into his ear. “See you flushed and pretty in your panties, desperate for my cock.”

Harry hums against his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he goes boneless in his arms. Louis runs his other hand down to Harry’s cock again, tugging him free of the wet lace. He’s hard again -- or maybe he never went soft -- sticky with his own come as Louis strokes him slowly in time with his thrusts. 

“You love this don’t you?” he asks. At Harry’s small nod, Louis whispers again, “Me too, baby.”

He’s close now, his strokes getting sloppier and sloppier as he works himself harder in the cleft of Harry’s cheeks. His grip on Harry’s cock gets tighter, jerking him off lightning fast as they get more and more worked up. 

Harry nearly bites through his hand when he comes for the second time, surprising both of them. Louis catches his come with his other hand as he thrusts twice more and comes all over Harry’s back, painting his panties with ropes of white. 

They pull apart after a moment, both of them panting hard and grinning. Louis pulls Harry forward and gives him a sweet kiss, giggling into his mouth as the gravity of the situation hits him. They’re both naked in a library, covered in their own come as a couple of strangers stand obliviously at the other side of the room. He has no idea what to do with his hand, so he settles for wiping it on his shirt with a frown and tucking his shirt back into his pants. They get dressed quickly, unable to stop smiling at each other. 

They have to walk past the strangers at the other side on their way out, trying to hide their pink cheeks and shiny eyes as they walk by nonchalantly. Louis sneaks a glance at them on the way out, getting nothing but a bored smile from one of the strangers. 

“I can’t believe we got away with that,” he tells Harry on the stairwell. Harry just giggles, tugging his box of goodies to himself.

They walk out of the library holding hands, filthy and debauched but never happier.

 

**Eight Months Later**

Louis gets home from a long day at the school in the early evening; he stops by the mailroom as a habit, pulling a handful of bills and junk mail from his box. He wonders if he should text Harry to come over for takeout or if he should make the extra effort and surprise him with a night out on the town. 

It’s on his way up the elevator that he notices a plain white envelope tucked into the pile. What stands out is the name on the paper: Harry Styles.

Louis smiles, confused, as he unlocks the door to his flat and kicks off his shoes, shuffling towards the kitchen. He places the bills on the counter and looks at the envelope again, wondering why in the world Harry would start this up again. They’ve been together for months now, Harry giving up on the sex toys in favor of enjoying them together in the safety of their own homes. 

He opens the envelope and pulls out a piece of notebook paper. It’s a small note in Harry’s handwriting.

_Dear Lou,_

_I was going to wait a year to ask this but that seems rather pointless, doesn’t it? We may be moving “too quick” but I think we’re timeless, you and I. So, my question to you is --_

_Will you move out of your lovely flat and take up residence with me in my Delightfully Family-Sized Home with the intent of eventually (hopefully soon...) making many, many babies together?_

_Love you lots and lots and lots._

_Your pal,_

_Harry._

Louis couldn’t fight the grin off his face if he tried. He tucks the note into his pocket and spins right back around, knowing exactly where to go.

He pops into every corner shop he can find on his way to Harry’s house, picking up a small cardboard box as well along the way. When he’s finally on the street outside Harry’s house, he parks his car and pulls a pen from his glove compartment, scribbling a messy “Louis Tomlinson” on the top.

He smooths out his shirt and walks up the path with a pop in his step. He rings Harry’s doorbell twice even though he has a key and waits patiently on his doorstep. Their doorstep soon, he smiles.

Harry opens the door after a few moments, tilting his head in confusion when he sees Louis. “Did you lose your key?” he asks.

“Nope,” Louis answers. “Found this box on your doorstep.” He pushes it into Harry’s arm and steps back, arms crossed casually. “Should see what’s in it, probably.”

“Okaaay,” Harry drawls. “Weirdo.” He looks down at the box and stares at the name on the top. When he looks back up he has a coy smile on his face. “Seems I’ve got a box intended for you.”

“Funny that. In the name of tradition, maybe you should open it for me.”

Harry’s full-on beaming now, biting his lip excitedly as he opens the flaps of the box. He pulls out a stack of magazines, all of them covered in pictures of wedding cakes, wedding dresses, and wedding flowers. He pauses, darting a startled glance at Louis. “Is this…” he trails off, pulling a note from the bottom of the box. 

Louis knows what it says by heart, having recited it hundreds of times on his way over. “Marry me you silly boy,” he reads along with Harry.

Harry drops the box and the magazines on the ground, jumping half into Louis’ arms as he repeats “ _yes, yes, yes_ ” over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for it being shit
> 
> find me on tumblr @ harryscontentbum :))))


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